Page 8 of Body of Trust

“Keep moving. Question later.”

He nudges me, and I let out a grunt as I listen.

Gunfire raining down on you is scary. Being trapped in a narrow tunnel with no idea where you’re going is downright frightening.

I let out a whimper.

“You’re doing great. Just keep going and don’t stop.”

With his assurance, I crawl for what feels like the length of a football field.

“Have I ever told you that I’m afraid of small spaces?” I say.

“Nope. Never came up.”

“Well … this is me telling you that I positively hate feeling trapped. Elevators, rides where you’re strapped down, windowless rooms, airplanes—”

“The Grand Canyon.”

“What?” My tone is exasperated.

“We were talking a few weeks ago, and you asked where I’d like to travel. I ignored the question, but the answer was the Grand Canyon. If you can picture it, there’s this wide span of clay mountains. They’re red and orange with this golden hue that appears when the sun hits the tops. Over the course of the day, the sun moves over the ridges, lighting up one majestic scene after the other.”

His visual is helping me maintain my nerves.

“Do … do you hike?”

“Going down the canyon is the fun part. If you don’t like to walk, you can get a mule.”

“You, on a mule?”

“I said, you could. I can manage it on foot. Sometimes, the pathways are so shadowy, you don’t know where you’re going. Then, the sun hits at the right angle, and it’s brilliantly lit. You see a small stream gurgling over rocks, leading to the Colorado River.”

“What do you do when you get to the bottom?”

“Admire the beauty. Have lunch. Go rafting.”

His calming voice keeps my hands and feet moving steadily.

“In the Colorado River? I didn’t know you were such a thrill seeker.”

He laughs lowly. “There are many things you don’t know about me.” With a hand on my foot, he slows me. “Stop for a second.”

There’s a metal grate on the side of the wall. Jesse hands me the phone, and I point it toward the grate. There are slots just big enough for fingers to fit through. He braces his legs as he grips the metal and gives it a yank.

It doesn’t move.

My heart sinks with the realization that we are quite possibly going to die in here.

His face turns bright red, and his neck bulges. A deep rumble in his throat echoes as he attempts to remove the grate once again. His body shakes with the might he’s exerting. When he lets go, the grate is still on the wall, and he’s breathing fitfully with sweat beading down his temples.

Despite his two failed attempts, I can see the determination in his eyes. His jaw is set tight as he stares at the grate, mustering up the energy to try again.

“You can do this, Jesse,” I say with sheer conviction, and he blinks at me in surprise by the encouragement.

With a nod, he pulls his sleeves up and readjusts his large body. He braces his foot against the wall as his hands grip the grate. With animalistic grit, his body quakes with the adrenaline as he lets out a loud yell, pulling and shuddering, loosening the metal from the wall inch by inch until it pops out, sending him falling backward.

“Jesse!” I drop his phone and take the metal off of him. It’s heavy as I shove it to the side, careful not to cut him with the sharp edges. My hands roam over his head and shoulders, making sure he didn’t hurt himself in any way. “Are you okay?”